The cold froze the blood in you, digging deep into your heart. Shadows seemed to swirl around your feet, you fumble for the light switch. Flipping it up and down, the room remains a lethal black. A bud begins to blossom in your heart - fear. It becomes rooted into the depths of your heart, leaving imprints on the walls of your glass heart. The winds howled on. The rain pounded on the windows, threatening to flood my room.
You hear something. The sound was loud. Louder than the thunder booming outside. A laughter. Death filled the air as the laughter reverberated in your mind. You cover your ears but you still hear the sound. It was like fertiliser, giving the bud in your heart extra food.
You smell something. A stench of metal danced its way into my room. The air was unbreathable, with each breath comes a metallic sting. Every breath brought you one step closer to the grim reaper.
You see something. You walk down the corridor to another room, one filled with light. A figure was stained red, red like blood. Maybe it was. You ran, dashing pass your empty room, pass the pantry, pass the living room and out of the house. Your eyes dilated wildly. Your mind is filled with an image - a cleaver, a blood stained figure, a man laughing.
You may have survived. You may have escaped the mutilation of your father. Something still haunts you. With every passing second, minute, hour as you run, remorse fills your heart. You had left mother on the ground, allowed her to become stained in the essence of our life. Or death. You live till today, but only the body. Your soul had left you when you left the house.
One night, lightning filled the skies with light. They seemed like light coming from Heaven, or were they multiple staircases up to the beyond. You were in your room, standing in front of a mirror. One second you looked at yourself, laughing at another second. You picked up a barrel of petrol. You run rounds round the house, leaving a mess of petrol on every corner you see. A flick. Within an instant, the house is consumed by the infernos of Hell. You let yourself burn, still laughing, laughing at what you see in the mirror. You saw a figure, stained red, with a cleaver in her chest. You had her hand spread out, as though asking you to go to her cold embrace......
You
The cold froze the blood in you, digging deep into your heart. Shadows seemed to swirl around your feet, you fumble for the light switch. Flipping it up and down, the room remains a lethal black. A bud begins to blossom in your heart - fear. It becomes rooted into the depths of your heart, leaving imprints on the walls of your glass heart. The winds howled on. The rain pounded on the windows, threatening to flood my room.You hear something. The sound was loud. Louder than the thunder booming outside. A laughter. Death filled the air as the laughter reverberated in your mind. You cover your ears but you still hear the sound. It was like fertiliser, giving the bud in your heart extra food.
You smell something. A stench of metal danced its way into my room. The air was unbreathable, with each breath comes a metallic sting. Every breath brought you one step closer to the grim reaper.
You see something. You walk down the corridor to another room, one filled with light. A figure was stained red, red like blood. Maybe it was. You ran, dashing pass your empty room, pass the pantry, pass the living room and out of the house. Your eyes dilated wildly. Your mind is filled with an image - a cleaver, a blood stained figure, a man laughing.
You may have survived. You may have escaped the mutilation of your father. Something still haunts you. With every passing second, minute, hour as you run, remorse fills your heart. You had left mother on the ground, allowed her to become stained in the essence of our life. Or death. You live till today, but only the body. Your soul had left you when you left the house.
One night, lightning filled the skies with light. They seemed like light coming from Heaven, or were they multiple staircases up to the beyond. You were in your room, standing in front of a mirror. One second you looked at yourself, laughing at another second. You picked up a barrel of petrol. You run rounds round the house, leaving a mess of petrol on every corner you see. A flick. Within an instant, the house is consumed by the infernos of Hell. You let yourself burn, still laughing, laughing at what you see in the mirror. You saw a figure, stained red, with a cleaver in her chest. You had her hand spread out, as though asking you to go to her cold embrace......